Three Cities
by Hannoie
Summary: New York was a mistake. Los Angeles, well. Los Angeles at least began as a mistake. But London? London was a decision. The best decision Robert ever made.
1. New York

_A/N: So, I started working on this in November last year, after I'd just finished watching the first three seasons of_ Grace and Frankie _. Made it halfway through the third chapter, and then I hit a wall. Hard. And, as I tend to do when I hit a wall, I gave up and moved on to other, newer, shinier projects. Then, a few days ago, I was scrolling through my documents and found this again. I thought, hey, I should finish that. So I did :)_

Three Cities _will span three chapters, three cities, and just over five years. It's based on what we know about Robert and Sol's first kiss, their second kiss, and the London suit. This story is finished and edited (cue shock and excitement from the people that are familiar with my normal fanfic practices), so I'll be posting chapters two and three quite soon. Hope you'll enjoy, and please leave a review when you've finished reading!_

 _Edit: Apparently the format got majorly messed up the first time I posted this for some reason? It should be working now._

* * *

 _New York, January 29th, 1993_

It had been a good day. A _great_ day.

Divorce lawyers didn't get too many of those, so when Robert suggested a drink in the hotel bar, Sol was all for it. Every good day deserved some sort of celebration.

Swallowing the last mouthful and putting his glass down, Robert turned to Sol with a small grin. Sol smiled back and finished his own drink.

'Another?' Robert suggested.

Sol glanced down at his wrist watch, his lips pulling into a small grimace, like they always did when he wasn't sure about something. 'I don't know, Robert. We have that early flight …'

'Oh, come on,' Robert said, leaning forward and putting his hand on Sol's arm. 'Another drink won't hurt. Besides, I don't want today to end! It's been a fantastic day, and tomorrow I have to go home to Grace.'

Sol sighed, giving Robert a half-smile. 'How are the two of you? Still …'

'Still the way we've always been, yes.'

'I'm sorry.'

Robert had to laugh at that, giving Sol a fond look. 'It's not your fault my wife and I don't love each other.'

'No, but it still makes me feel terrible, that the two of you don't have what Frankie and I have. I always miss her when we go on these trips, and I miss the boys.'

Robert shrugged. 'I miss Brianna and Mal, of course. I love my daughters. But Grace …' he trailed off, shaking his head. Then he smiled. 'Another?'

Sol looked like he wanted to say no, but he was smiling back, and Robert knew that he had won.

'Fine. Another.'

* * *

Three or maybe four 'another's later, it was nearing midnight. They hadn't spoken of their families since the first drink, and Robert felt all the better for it. Instead, they'd talked a bit about the firm and some of the cases, and as their tab grew longer, other things, more personal things, but the memory of _what_ exactly was becoming blurry. Now they were silent, staring at their empty glasses, neither wanting the night to end but both knowing that it had to.

Robert knew that if they had another drink, they wouldn't make it to their 7am flight tomorrow morning. And if they didn't make it in time to their flight, Robert would have to call Grace and explain why they'd missed the flight, and then they'd _not_ have a fight, because Grace would be silent and frosty in her disapproval, and the girls would notice like they always did and …

'We should go back to our rooms,' he said, pushing his glass away with a sigh. 'We have to be up in five hours.'

'You're right. We probably should have gone to bed hours ago.'

'Well, I'm glad we didn't.'

'Me too.'

Smiling at each other, they stood up, slightly unsteady but not completely drunk. After they'd paid, they made their way to the elevators. Robert didn't notice the small flight of steps until it was too late, and he'd already stumbled, and he was falling—

Sol caught him before he could, and he was back on his feet in an instant and Sol's touch gone just as fast, but not before—not before he felt—a spark. A spark of _something_.

It wasn't the first time he'd felt that spark with Sol, either, but it had always fizzled and died so quickly, gone before he could really notice it, gone before he could tell for sure what it was. This time, for some reason, it didn't go away.

It didn't go away. They stepped into the elevator. The doors closed. The elevator was so small, and the spark wasn't a spark at all, it was a current of electricity, filling the space between them. Robert swallowed, looking at Sol. He needed—he needed—

Whatever it was he needed, Robert could tell that Sol needed it, too. His eyes were wide, he looked almost scared, as if he had no idea what was going on, but there was something else there too, something that looked almost like …

Desire. And before Robert had time to think about it, before he could give Sol time to think about it, he pushed himself forward and Sol did the same, and they met him in the middle and their lips crashed together.

They kissed. They kissed like Robert and Grace had _never_ kissed, mouths open, tongues twining and teeth clashing, hands in each other's hair. Robert took a couple of steps forward, pushing Sol against the elevator wall, pushing one of his legs between Sol's. He broke the kiss, just for a moment, just for a breath of air, just long enough for Sol to whisper, 'Robert,' before their mouths met again, drinking each other down as though they'd spent an eternity in the desert and this was the first drop of water they'd ever had. And that's what it felt like, the taste of Sol in his mouth, the smell of him in his nose. It felt like something he couldn't live without.

The _ding_ of the elevator cut through the haze, and Robert and Sol broke apart, staring at each other, breathing heavily. Robert opened his mouth to say something, but what could he say? He didn't even know for sure what they'd done.

Sol, usually so talkative, usually so _over_ talkative in awkward situations, was quiet too. After a few moments, Robert sighed and shook his head, exited the elevator and went to his room. He didn't look back.

He was drunk. Sol was drunk. What had happened … it wouldn't happen again. Of course not.

Of course not.

* * *

 _Well, that's it! I swear this is about as angsty as it gets. Robert is my son (What's that? He's over fifty years older than me? Well, what does_ that _matter? He's still my son.), and I could never hurt him too badly. Next chapter will be up in a few days. Again, please leave a review to tell me what you thought!_

 _Hannoie_


	2. Los Angeles

_A/N: Los Angeles this time, folks. Time for their second kiss. Please leave a review at the end!_

* * *

 _Los Angeles, June 3rd, 1993_

Drinks had not been a good idea.

They were in Los Angeles for a two-day conference. It was only a two-hour drive from San Diego—they could have gone home to their wives and children for the night and returned in the morning, but they'd booked a hotel instead, to 'save themselves the hassle of driving back and forth'.

They should not have saved themselves the hassle.

They hadn't been truly, properly alone with each other since that night. Since the elevator. They weren't alone now, either, sitting in the crowded hotel bar, drinking whiskey and chatting about the day they'd had. Being around people, it helped. Helped them ignore the silence hiding between every word, lingering in every pause, reminding them of the things they _weren't_ talking about.

Drinks had been a bad idea.

They were on the third one now, and Robert was really starting to feel it. They hadn't been drunk together since that night, either, although Robert had been drunk alone often enough. Whose idea had this been, anyway? He tried to think back, to remember, but he couldn't. Had Sol been the one to suggest it? He hoped so. He hoped it had been Sol. But he probably wasn't that lucky.

'Sol,' he said, interrupting his partner mid-sentence. 'Sol, whose idea was this?'

'Whose idea was what?'

'Drinks.'

'Oh. Yours. I think.'

Fuck. Drinks had been a _terrible_ idea, Robert.

'Maybe we should go back to our rooms.' Before they got too drunk. 'Long day tomorrow.'

Sol sighed, looking down and nodding. 'You're right.'

As they got up, paid for their drinks and began to walk towards the elevators, Robert was overcome with a horrible sense of déjà vu. He looked out for a flight of steps, but there wasn't one; no stumbling tonight. No sparks. No … anything.

They got into the elevator, Sol pushing the button for the 23rd floor. Just as the doors were closing, someone shouted, 'Hold the elevator!'

Both Robert's and Sol's hands shot forward, but they were too late. The doors had closed and now their hands were touching, and there it was again, that spark. Robert should withdraw his hand, should turn away, should pretend like nothing had happened, but the spark was growing into that irresistible pull again and somehow it seemed even more intense than last time, all focussed on Sol, and Robert knew what he was supposed to do, and he knew what he _wasn't_ supposed to do, but how could he help himself?

This kiss was different this than the last, slower, not as desperate. If that one had been like the first drop of water after an eternity spent in the desert, this one was like a glass of well-aged Cabernet Sauvignon after a lifetime of drinking cheap box wine. It was deep and rich, a slow exploration, hands sliding over backs and grasping at shoulders, noses fitting next to each other just so.

The _ding_ of the elevator was once again what broke them apart, but Robert knew that this time they couldn't just ignore what had happened. He couldn't go on like this. And judging by the look on Sol's face, neither could he.

'We should talk,' Robert said.

'You're probably right.' Sol looked down, lips wobbling and throat bobbing. God, he looked miserable. Robert wanted nothing more than to reach out and kiss that pain away, but _that_ was exactly the problem. He shouldn't want to do that.

'Let's go to my room.'

Sol nodded, and they trekked silently down the corridor, not touching and not looking at each other. Robert unlocked the door and they stepped inside. Sol flicked on the light, illuminating the stark white sheets of the queen-sized bed that dominated the space. God, Robert wished this conversation could take place somewhere else. Anywhere else. But it couldn't be helped. The only other option that would afford them the same privacy was Sol's room, and it wasn't like his bed would be any less conspicuous.

Robert sat down on the edge of the mattress, Sol sinking down next to him. They were silent for a while, still not looking at each other. Someone would have to talk. Usually that someone was Sol, but he was so quiet, far too quiet, and Robert didn't know how to deal with that.

'Well,' he said, just to say _something_. 'Well, we've kissed twice.'

'Yes, we have.'

'I … well, I don't know about you, but Grace and I have never kissed like that. But we don't love each other, and I know that you and Frankie do, so—'

'I've never kissed Frankie like that, either,' Sol interrupted, sounding like he was about to start crying. Robert threw him a glance—yes, he looked like it too. 'I love her, but it's never been like—like—like _that_.'

'Right.' Why in the world did that make him feel _happy_? What was wrong with him? 'Have you … have you told her about the last kiss?'

'Of course not,' said Sol with a huff. 'What was I supposed to say? "Frankie, I kissed Robert at the conference in New York and it made me feel more alive than your kisses ever have." I couldn't tell her that, it would break her heart!' He paused, clearing his throat. 'Have you told Grace?'

Robert snorted and shook his head. 'No, I haven't. Either she'd never speak to me again or I'd never hear the end of it. I don't know which would be worse.'

They were silent for half a moment, before they both said, in unison, 'Never hear the end of it.' They shared a quick grin before looking away again.

'So,' Sol said, 'what do we do?'

'I don't know. But we can't go on pretending like it's nothing. If it happens every time we're alone, it's obviously _something_.'

'Then maybe we should—stop pretending?' He paused. 'Explore it and see what happens. Maybe we'll get it out of our systems.'

'Maybe,' Robert agreed, although he sounded unconvinced even to his own ears. Whatever this was, he doubted he'd get it out of his system anytime soon.

'Then let's … explore.'

Robert looked up at Sol's change of tone. His eyes, usually so happy and bright, had turned darker, more intense, and Robert's breath hitched.

'Okay,' he heard himself saying. 'Let's explore.'

And as Sol leaned in to kiss him again, he thought that perhaps drinks hadn't been such a terrible idea after all.

* * *

 _*shakes head* My dumb, soft boys. They'll figure it out eventually._

 _Third chapter will be up soon! (Definitely sooner than 17 days from now, sorry about making you wait.) Please leave a review!_

 _Hannoie_


	3. London

_A/N: Lol. This took a while. Soz, folks, but that's life sometimes. Uni thoroughly kicked my ass last semester, then Christmas, my birthday and New Year's rolled around, then I got the flu, then my mum had some pretty serious health issues that made me miss the first week of_ this _semester, and since then I've just been trying to catch up. This is the first time I've had a break in literal months, so I thought I should take the opportunity to finally edit and upload the final chapter of this fic. Hope you'll enjoy, and please leave a review at the end!_

* * *

 _London, April 18th, 1998_

Robert was alone in the elevator this time, tugging at the sleeve of his suit, bought for the occasion. Sol hadn't seen it yet. Robert had kicked him out of their suite almost an hour ago and told him to amuse himself until it was time for their dinner reservation.

Their wives knew that they were in London, but they didn't know much else. They'd accepted the flimsy, job-related excuse without question; they didn't know that Robert and Sol were really here on vacation, nor that they were staying at The Ritz, and certainly not that they were sharing a room. No, Grace and Frankie were as much in the dark as they ever had been.

But tonight was not the time to think about them. Tonight was a special occasion, even though Sol didn't know it yet. Tonight, Robert was finally going to do it. Something he ought to have done a long time ago.

The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened. Robert stepped out into the grand entrance hall, looking around for Sol, and finally spotted him near the restaurant entrance, waiting for Robert to arrive.

'Sol!' Robert called, striding forward, ignoring the way his heart sped up. Sol met him with a broad smile and a kiss. There was something very liberating about being in another country, where there was absolutely no risk of being recognised. And if the maître d' was looking at them with a slight moue of distaste, well, what was it to them? They didn't have to answer to her.

Sol stepped back and gave Robert a once-over, his eyebrows rising towards his hairline. 'Is that suit new?'

'It is,' Robert said, trying hard not to smile and most likely failing miserably. He'd been hoping Sol would notice. 'I want tonight to be special.'

'Well, I feel underdressed now,' said Sol, the corners of his mouth twitching in an attempt to fight a smile of his own, as he looked down on his striped shirt and tie.

'Oh, nonsense. You look fantastic.'

'In that case, shall we?'

'We shall.'

Hands linked, they approached the maître d', who gave them a smile that only looked a little bit forced. 'Welcome to The Ritz Restaurant, gentlemen. What can I do for you?'

'We have a table for two booked. Robert Hanson.'

'Excellent.' She looked down, searching her book for a few moments, before looking up again with the same bright smile. 'Follow me, please.'

She led them to a fairly secluded table near the back of the restaurant and handed them each a menu as soon as they were seated. 'A waitress will be with you shortly. Please, enjoy your meal.'

'Thank you,' Robert said, echoed by Sol, before the maître d' returned to the front of the restaurant.

Robert opened his menu and smiled at Sol. He smiled back, soft brown eyes crinkling in the corners, looking about as besotted as Robert felt. London had been a good idea. This, _tonight_ , was a good idea.

* * *

An hour later, Robert and Sol had finished the main course, and their waiter returned to ask if they wanted dessert. Robert scanned the menu and made up his mind in an instant. 'I'll have the chocolate soufflé.'

Grace would never have allowed it—she'd have alluded to his weight and then told the waiter that they didn't want dessert. But Sol just smiled, nodded, and said, 'That sounds wonderful, dear. I think I'll have one, too.'

That small exchange, that tiny gesture of acceptance and affection, finally gave Robert the courage to broach the subject he'd been trying to voice since they'd finished their entrees. The reason he'd brought Sol here.

'Sol,' he said, as soon as the waiter had left. 'There's something we need to talk about.'

'Okay,' Sol replied, leaning back a little, eyebrows at the ready to form a frown. Heart so hopelessly stuck on his sleeve—another thing that Robert loved about him.

'It's been almost five years since Los Angeles. We said that we would explore _this_ , and, well, I think we have.'

'Oh.' Sol shrank into his seat a bit. 'And now I suppose you want us to stop?'

'No!' Robert exclaimed, earning himself a couple of curious glances from nearby diners. 'God, no. Sol, I …' Deep breath. 'I love you.'

'Oh, _Robert_ ,' Sol said, the worried crease between his brows disappearing and his eyes going softer than Robert had ever seen them before. 'I love you, too.'

Robert's heart felt as though it had just sprouted wings and was about to take off into the sky, but he needed to reign it in for a little longer. He had to make it through the rest of his speech. 'And _this_ —what we're doing—it's not just exploring anymore. It's a relationship. One that I don't want to end. Sol … I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you. One day, if-if it becomes legal, I want to _marry_ you. I don't love Grace—'

'Robert,' Sol began, but Robert held up a hand and he fell silent.

'I don't love Grace,' Robert continued, 'but I know you still love Frankie. I know you don't want to hurt her. I'm not asking you to decide right now, and I'm definitely not asking you to leave her right now. I'm not ready to leave Grace yet, either. Not until the girls are moved out and busy living their own lives and—well, when the time is right.'

Sol's eyes were brimming with tears, but for once, Robert couldn't tell if they were from happiness or sadness. After a few moments of silence, Sol took a deep breath. 'I … want all of that, _so_ much, Robert. But Frankie will be heartbroken no matter when we do it. And the boys, they … they might _hate_ me. I'm just not sure I could live with that. Not sure at all.'

Robert nodded, looking down at his lap. 'I know. The girls might hate me, too. And Grace … who knows? Perhaps she'd be hurt in her own way. I _know_ that if we did this, we would upend the lives of everyone we love. I _know_. But I still had to ask, or I would never have forgiven myself.'

Just then, their waiter arrived with their soufflés, giving them an excuse to be silent for a little while. Any other time, Robert would have revelled in the sweet, rich texture of the chocolate soufflé coupled with the silky smoothness of the vanilla Chantilly cream, but now he barely tasted it. Where would they go from here? Where _could_ they go from here?

'I'll do it.'

Robert's head snapped up. He'd misheard, surely. Sol hadn't just said … 'You'll do it?'

Sol nodded. 'I was thinking. About-about our options. If we don't do it, we could either, well, go on as we have. But that would mean lying to Frankie for the rest of my life, and I really don't think I could do that. Besides, if she would find out … it would be horrible. For all of us. And the only other option would be-would be to end this. And I couldn't do that. That's the _only_ idea that hurts more than the idea of hurting Frankie and the boys. I love you so much, Robert. And I don't think I could be really happy without you.'

'So …'

'Let's do it. When the time is right. Even if that's ten years from now.'

Robert smiled, and _oh_ , this was what it was supposed to feel like. How could he ever have confused his feelings for Grace with _this_? 'Well, then. When the time is right, let's—let's leave our wives!'

'And if we live to see it become legal … let's get married.'

* * *

 _Happy boys! Dw babies, you'll get there eventually._

 _And that wraps up this story! Thank you so much for reading, and a special thanks to the … three? … people who've left comments so far. Love you lots!_

 _Hannoie_


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